


lay your weary head to rest

by theantikrist



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman and Robin (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Graphic Description, Haly's Circus, Italian Mafia, No proofreading we die like mne, Suicide, The Flying Graysons - Freeform, The League of Assassins (DCU)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-06
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2020-10-10 22:22:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20535560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theantikrist/pseuds/theantikrist
Summary: Dick’s heart stopped when he heard his mother, but now it has turned into stone and dropped into his stomach. Then, he feels it- his father’s growing tension in his arms as he prepares to swing Dick onto the platform with his entire strength, but there’s another crack, and it’s too late. Papa roughly tosses him as hard as he can- and Dick reaches.He strains every muscle from his toes to his fingers to get his hand far enough to grip the edge of the wood.And he almost makes it.orBruce's kids, as skilled as they are, lucky. They've escaped death many times, sometimes even coming back from it, but in another universe they aren't as lucky.





	lay your weary head to rest

**Author's Note:**

> I thought it would be interesting to create an au where all the batkids died. Dark, I know. But I think it would be really interesting to create a universe where died because they had never found Bruce (except for Dick in this first chapter I'm sorry) so yeah here you go. Warning: it's going to be really sad. And yes, the title is from Carry On Wayward Son.

Dick doesn’t know why Mr. Haly chooses to stop in Gotham every year.

The city really wasn’t special. Well, unless you considered its abnormally high crime rates. If anything, it was the opposite of extraordinary. The rancid odor of piss and cigarette smoke infected every corner of the city as it wafted along with the thick smog so that Dick felt like he was choking every time he took a breath. Needles glittered in the gutters of filthy streets and shady people loitered on street corners eyeing others with predatory gazes. It made him shudder.

Dick thinks the only nice thing about the city is the beautiful architecture. In the center of the city is where the buildings of an older Gotham stand. These buildings are smooth marble and granite structures, adorned with grand pillars and archways guarded by watchful gargoyles. Although old fashioned and somewhat cramped, it spoke of a history of elegance and class.

Circling the historical area, is a newer Gotham- one of modern technology and built on Wayne family donations. These are looming skyscrapers with impressive, sleek designs that are almost futuristic. These parts of the city he would probably appreciate if it weren’t filled with the filthy rich and corrupt politicians making deals behind closed doors.

Gotham, Dick thinks simply, is a shithole. But his mother says he shouldn’t use words like that so every year he keeps those thoughts to himself when they come to this part of the tour.

He’s helping his Mama and Papa unload the trapeze equipment from the trucks when he heard Noah and Cristiano whispering to each other. He tried to look busy by fumbling with some ropes and boxes.

“This city is still a magnet for scumbags, innit?” Noah mutters.

“Perfect for you,” Cristiano responds, shoving his friend’s shoulder slightly. “Still, if we get big crowds, it means we get big money. And who could say no to that?”

“Haly. The man could stop anywhere and he still chooses Gotham.” Noah wrinkles his nose. “Crazy old man.”

"He’s not crazy. He’s just getting soft in his age.”

“Nah, he’s crazy alright. You hear he didn’t pay up to Zucco, right? That’s a bold move.”

“Well of course he didn’t. Pop Haly runs an honest business here. The man’s got too much pride to go and do anything like that.”

Noah laughed and nudged him playfully, when his eyes suddenly looked past Cristiano narrowed on Dick.

Embarrassed at being caught staring, he tries to pile boxes into his hands and stumble away, but only makes it so far until everything’s tumbling out of his hands and onto the asphalt.

“That’s what you get for eavesdropping, squirt” Cristiano teases standing above him, as Dick dropped to his knees and scrambled to collect everything.

“I’m not a squirt,” he says defiantly, and after picking up the boxes, he stretched as tall as he could, just reaching 4’10”. Mama says it’s a perfectly normal height for a boy his age, but the older kids like Cristiano and Noah call him shrimp or squirt. “I’m 9 now.”

Noah laughed and it was genuine too, not mocking or rude, because his eyes crinkled at the corners and he gasped for air by the time he was done. Dick bristled indignantly. He didn’t know what was so funny.

Noah dumped one more box at the top of the newly organized pile in his hands and Dick refused to let his knees buckle, although everything was really heavy. “Yeah, alright. Run along, Grayson. We still gotta unpack.”

He sends Dick forward with a start via a brotherly clap on the shoulder and he nearly drops everything again. He shuffles forward, to where the main tent is already halfway set up, the red and white stripes standing crookedly in the distance like a crumbling castle that once stood tall and grand.

Dick is acutely aware of the fact that’s he’s not a regular kid. He knows most boys aren’t world famous acrobats who shake hands with celebrities on international tours and most people don’t live in an RV and aren’t friends with elephants. And sometimes he does feel lonely, with the only companions he has being infants born to members of the troupe or older teenagers, usually runaways with no family. He doesn’t have school friends, though Mama and Papa have done their best to tutor him on the road, but yeah- it did get a little lonely.

So yes, the circus wasn’t a castle- it was old and dirty but full of love, much like the people who were in it. Most nights he’s in love with being alive and feeling the gust of wind in his face as he swings from trapeze to trapeze. The gasps and cheers from the audience pump his heart full of pride and excitement, until it’s running through his veins and it’s all consuming. He knows that he was made for this- to flip, to swing. To perform.

Then after the show, he meets fans of all ages complimenting him and asking him to do more flips (and he always delivers), but then Mama ushers him back into their RV and peppers him with kisses.

“My little robin,” she would say, planting a seed of warmth in Dick’s chest. “My talented, little robin.”

The circus wasn’t a castle, but it was home.

_ Holy moly _, Dick thought as he peeked at the stands from behind a slit in the curtains. There’s tons of people tonight.

There are quiet whispers of nervous excitement backstage before the show starts, and he thinks that he heard someone say that, the Bruce Wayne was here. Bruce Wayne! The richest man in the world!

Dick was stretching when a couple with a small child approached. They, very clearly, were extremely wealthy. If the glinting jewelry and red bottomed heels of the woman wasn’t obvious enough, their upturned noses and cold expressions said more. He suddenly felt very poor standing next to them.

“Timothy would like a picture. Is that alright, Mister Grayson?” the lady asks politely.

“Sure! And just Dick is fine,” he says kneeling down so that he could take Timothy onto his knee. He’s a small kid, probably 4 or 5, and he looks up at Dick with curious eyes. He’s also kind unsettling when Dick notices how alarmingly intelligent the young boys eyes’ are. It’s like he’s seeing something in Dick that Dick himself doesn’t know about and analyzing it, turning it over and over in his mind, until he understands it completely. He pushes the thought away as quickly as it came. “So you’re little Timothy, huh? Well, watch me carefully tonight because I’m going to do a special flip just for you. It’s a quadruple flip and my parents and I are the only people in the world who can do it!”

Something in Timothy’s mind flickers to life when Dick gives him that information and now he’s looking at Dick with more curiosity and possibly wonder. Dick flashes a grin and there’s the click of a camera shutter and he’s sure that Timothy is still staring at him in the picture.

The crowd is deafening tonight. Their cheers nearly overpower Pop Haly’s monologue and a twist of adrenaline settles in his stomach. He cranes his neck from the trapeze deck to try and spot a glimpse of Bruce Wayne, but if he’s there, he’s lost among a sea of people.

First Yulia and her gaggle of gymnasts flipped out from behind the curtains, then Gordo and the rest of the clowns, then the strong men and sword swallowers and animals, then fire breathers and contortionists, until it was just the Graysons waiting on the trapeze platforms.

“Are you ready, Robin?” Mama asks him, smiling at him warmly.

Before he can answer there’s a roar of excited screams as one of the fire breathers creates a huge, crackling flame. An excited knot twists in his stomach and he smiles back.

“Yeah.”

“And now, ladies and gentlemen- the aft of the evening, the family you’ve all been waiting for- the Flying Graysons!” he hears distantly over the speakers. “There’s Richard-“ Papa jumps to catch a trapeze- “Mary-“ Mama jumps- “and little Dickie!”

Dick leaps off the platform and grabs the trapeze handle and he’s laughing before he knows it. The routine feels fluid tonight and he’s flipping and flying with a muscle memory he didn’t know he had. Their quadruple flip caused the crowd to erupt with cheers and he thinks his face is going to break from smiling so hard. 

The routine is almost done, and he’s hanging from his upside down father’s forearms when he hears it. There’s a long zipping sound and a large _crack_ of snapping metal and his mother’s voice.

“John,” she cries desperately, her shrill voice piercing the air above the music, and Dick’s heart stops beating in his chest. He’s never heard her scream like that before.

There’s a loud thud and a gasp from the crowd. Before he can think about what it means (because he doesn’t want to, because Mama isn’t- ,_can’t be_-), his father screams.

“No!” And then there’s the same zipping sound as before.

Dick’s heart stopped when he heard his mother, but now it has turned into stone and dropped into his stomach. Then, he feels it- his father’s growing tension in his arms as he prepares to swing Dick onto the platform with his entire strength, but there’s another crack, and it’s too late. Papa roughly tosses him as hard as he can- and Dick reaches.

He strains every muscle from his toes to his fingers to get his hand far enough to grip the edge of the wood. 

And he almost makes it.

As time slows down around him, the crowds screams falls deaf on his ears and he sees with perfect clarity just how close he came. But it wasn’t enough. And in the blink of an eye, he’s rapidly falling and the ground is coming up to meet him just as fast.

He closes his eyes.

Dick Grayson dies with a heavy heart and a sickening crunch, but he doesn’t have to watch his father follow.


End file.
